the man on the flying trapeze
by Douglas Messerli
On the surface, of course, Grant as Nick
Arden is portrayed as a virile heterosexual: having lost his first wife, Ellen
Wagstaff Arden (played by Irene Dunne), to a shipwreck, he is in the process as
the movie begins of marrying for a second time. In these first scenes, some of
the most humorous of the film, we discover that Ellen, an anthropological
photographer, apparently has been drowned seven years earlier when the ship on
which she was traveling sank, leaving behind the husband and her two young children
behind. After much judicial confusion, the judge declares the first wife dead,
freeing Nick to marry Bianca Bates, who has spent most of the proceedings
narcissistically peering into a pocket mirror.
Soon after, we discover that Ellen, his
first wife, is not only still living, but has been rescued from a deserted
island by a Portuguese freighter. Notably, she is dressed in men’s clothing, in
quite the opposite manner from the femme fatale Bianca; indeed, her children
wonder aloud whether she is a lady or a man. As if we needed further evidence
of Bianca’s character, Ellen’s mother-in-law, after announcing that Nick has
again married, admits to disliking her son’s new wife. The sexually neutered Ellen,
who has been “running wild,” as she later admits, is clearly a more appropriate
partner than the selfish catlike Bianca—a woman whose major complaint seems to
be that Nick will not wear the tasteless leopard housecoat for which she has
spent “all afternoon” shopping!
Given the hypocritical moral values of
the film industry, wherein sex is perceived as being linked only to marriage,
Ellen can still save the day if she prevents the connubial couple from bedding
down together. Off she rushes to Yosemite Inn—the same hotel where she spent
her first married night—to reveal herself and in so doing restore her lawful
rights. Indeed, the comic high jinks which follow produces much of the desired
effect. Upon discerning that Ellen is still alive, Nick refuses the advances of
his new bride as he attempts to escape their conjugal nest. However, we soon
discover, Nick is also quite terrified of her “high-strung”
personality—presumably meaning her temper—and has a difficult time in breaking
the news that his former wife has returned from the dead. Although he avoids
sex—the couple drive back without stopping until they arrive home, presumably
in Los Angeles—he has been unable to extricate himself from Bianca’s clutches.
In short, the writers, Bella and Samuel
Spewack, have separated the two women through the comic use of a series of
sexist stereotypes. Bianca is not only a beautiful woman, but represents all
women: Like the younger daughter in Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew
(a character which the Spewacks would revisit in their 1958 musical with Cole
Porter, Kiss Me, Kate) she is a young, cunning, bitchy, selfish
woman. Ellen Wagstaff Arden, on the other hand, in her devotion to a career—she
has, after all, left her children alone to pursue her vocation—in her use of
her maiden name, in her hyponymic first name (Ellen, Allen), along with that
first costume, compared by the writers to a man, and in her sensibility which
is, we gradually discover, closer to Nick himself, we almost immediately
perceive she is related to the male being which we begin to perceive Nick is
more comfortable. We soon discover, moreover, that Ellen shares Nick’s verbal
abilities—Nick is a lawyer—and, just as he has not yet told his new wife the
truth, she has held a secret from her ex-husband.
For almost immediately after this
encounter, Nick’s mind is consumed by Burkett, transforming even his vision by
the constant presence of an acrobatic figure, like an angelic putto, floating
before his eyes. His wife’s attempt to further deceive him by trotting out a
nebbish shoe salesman claiming to be Burkett, results in a series of activities
in which the two attempt to get even with one another.
He suggests lunch at the Pacific Club,
where Burkett-Adam reveals himself, and Ellen Wagstaff Arden is bested, her
hopes of reclaiming Nick becoming “all wet” as she falls into the pool.
“The love impulse is often confused,” he
proclaims, evidenced, clearly, by his observation of Nick posing before the
mirror in a woman’s hat and a woman’s dress held up against his bodily frame.
“It’s not for me, but for my friend. He’s waiting in the car!” Nick as Grant
explains, while the character of Burkett, Grant’s real-live lover waits below.
Like the writers of Bringing up Baby, who telegraphed Grant’s homosexuality in his donning of a feathered robe, the Spewacks use the possibility of a man (or men) in drag as representing a sexuality of which the movie itself cannot speak.
But even the plot’s attempts to return
Nick to his rightful location in a bed next to his wife’s bed (a requirement,
once again, of the hypocritical prigs of the day) demands that he be
transformed from Nicholas the man into Nicholas the Saint, as he dons the
holiday costume of Santa Claus. Presumably, since the two have already produced
their beloved and loving children, they shall remain happily chaste ever after.
* Another minor clue that
Grant is somehow connected with Scott shows up in Ellen/Dunne’s choice of an
explanation for her remaining in Bianca’s house; she explains that she is an
old friend of the family from Virginia, and for several scenes puts on an
exaggerated accent that supposedly represents her upbringing in the South. In
truth, Dunne was born in Kentucky; Randolph Scott was a Virginian.
Los Angeles, November 10, 2003
Reprinted from Green Integer Blog (August
2008).